


Yondu Week 2018

by LoveisYonduBlue



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Yondu Week 2018, Yondu week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveisYonduBlue/pseuds/LoveisYonduBlue
Summary: May 21 - 27 was dubbed "Yondu Week 2018," at least on Tumblr. We were given various prompts for each day, and here are my entries.Just as a side note, all of these take place take place in the universe as my other fics, "Loyalty" and the "Vital" series.





	1. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu has a nightmare, and wakes up to find that someone else has been having them too.

Yondu is surrounded by nothingness. It’s not dark, but it’s not light either – it’s kind of in-between, but everything seems sort of hazy – it’s hard to make things out at first. As he walks forward (at least he thinks it’s forward), he begins to see thin spires here and there. They grow from the ground, shifting shape from beautiful, crystalline structures to formations that are twisted, bent and deformed. Likewise, the lush sweet moss that has begun to sprout under his feet begins to shift to dead, red earth. 

He stops. At his feet lies a white stone. He’s compelled to pick it up, and bends to do so. It's longer than he thought, stuck into the earth. As he pulls it free, he sees it's not a stone at all. It's a finger bone, attached to a skeletal hand, attached to an arm. He drops it in horror, the red dust clouding around his feet. 

"They couldn't fulfill their purpose."

Yondu whirls on his heel.

Ego is standing before him. His form keeps shifting, ever-so-slightly, but his eyes stay the same, murderous ice-cold blue. "You're just a greedy Ravager. A pirate, a nobody, trying to make a quick buck.” The smiles disappears. “You shouldn't have cared," he says, striding towards him slowly. "But you _did."_

Yondu stumbles backwards.

"You took Peter away from me," Ego continues, and before Yondu can blink, the Celestial is suddenly inches away from him. "You took my son,” the god hisses in his face. “But I'm coming to get him. Then he can join his brothers and sisters. We'll be a family." He places his hands on Yondu's chest - and shoves him to the ground.

Yondu falls backwards into the red earth. Ego releases him, and he tries to get up, but his clothes are caught on something. He turns to free himself - and nearly screams. Seevah, the first child he delivered, is clawing at his arm. Her fur is disintegrating off her body, leaving nothing but white bone underneath. "Mister Captain, why did you do it?" her skull asks.

"My Dadda killed me, why did you take me to him?" 

Yondu turns in horror to see Evir, the last child he took to Ego, reaching up to grab his throat. Dozens more skeletal hands burst from the ground, dragging him under the earth. All around him, the forms of the rest of the children he delivered wail and cry out to him.

“Why?”

“How could you do this to us?”

He's choking on the dirt, the light is disappearing above him. He can't breathe.

“I’m coming to get my son!” Ego says. He roars with laughter and waves goodbye as Yondu disappears.

No! No, please! Yondu thinks desperately, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s drowning in the dirt and bones. The children drag him even further down, and suddenly he’s falling in open space, clawing at nothing – it’s cold – he can’t breathe – and then he hits something solid.

He wakes with a start, drenched in cold sweat, lying on the floor beside his bed, his sheets wrapped around his arms and neck. He cries out, ripping them free of his body. He scrambles to his feet, chest heaving. 

“Y-Yondu?”

He nearly screams, backing up against the wall so hard that he hits his head.

Peter is standing there, ghostly in the darkness. Yondu’s hand scratches up the wall behind him, trying to find the dial for the lights. He turns them on to twenty percent, fearing this is still a dream and Ego is going to be there too.

Thankfully, he isn’t, and it’s just the boy, standing there with his hands knotted in an oversized shirt, eyes wide and glistening.

Trying to ignore his still-thundering heart, Yondu forces himself to part from the wall and walk forward. “What’re ya doin’ in my cabin?” he demands, angry and still frightened from his dream. However, he immediately regrets his harsh tone as he sees the boy’s cheeks are wet with tears. He takes a deep breath and lowers himself to one knee. “Quill? What’s wrong, boy? Somebody hurt ya?”

He shakes his head. “I h-had a bad dream,” he manages to get out before dissolving into sobs.

 _Aw shit._ Yondu gnaws his lip, looks around his room to make sure there aren’t any witnesses – and gently puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders, patting softly. “Hush up now, it’s okay, boy. It was just a dream.”

To his surprise, Peter leans into him, curling his small arms around his neck and pressing his head into his shoulder.

Yondu isn’t sure how to react, but within him, a little piece of his heart twinges, feels warmer somehow. This boy, this small Terran child, who really has no reason to trust him, sought him over anyone else on the ship for comfort and protection. With unexpected tears pricking the corners of his eyes, Yondu unthinkingly wraps his arms around Peter and lifts him up. He pauses for a second, surprised at his own actions. Oh to hell with it. He goes to the edge of his bed and sits, cradling the boy in his lap. “It’s okay, Quill,” he repeats. “No one’s gonna git ya.” Not even you, Ego, he thinks fiercely. _Yer gonna have to git through me to git this boy._ “I gotcha, it’s okay.”

After awhile, Peter has subsided to sniffling, and Yondu lifts him off his knee and sets him on the floor. “Ya better now?” Yondu asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

Peter nods, and runs a sleeve across his nose. “Yondu?”

Yondu has just flopped into his bed. “What is it, boy?” He growls. He’s tired now, and he’s going to start getting very grumpy very soon.

Peter’s voice is timid, fingers fidgeting with one of the furs on Yondu’s bed. “Can I sleep with you? The ship is really dark and I’m afraid I’m going to have a nightmare again and-”

“Fine, fine! Jus’ shut up and git to sleep,” Yondu says, flinging back the blanket with a huff.

Peter scrubs a couple more tears from his eyes and smiles a little as he climbs into bed alongside Yondu.

Yondu glares down at him as he turns the lights down to five percent. “You tell anyone – anyone — about this, and I will eat ya myself! Ya got that?”

Peter nods vigorously. He’s asleep within five minutes.

Yondu scoots close to the boy as his own eyelids begin to droop, and traces his fingers lightly over the curly hair. _Don’t you worry, son. I’ll protect ya. With my life if need be._


	2. Scarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu takes care of Quill after he breaks his arm, and is forced to use his neckerchief to make the splint. Removing it shows young Quill something he didn't expect to see.

Everything was going more or less fine, until Quill lost his footing.

Yondu isn’t angry – not at Quill. The climb was steep, and the last leg of it was a wall, narrow at the top and with little handholds. For the rest of the Ravagers on the mission it’s easy to swing over the top, use their adult arms to lower themselves enough to jump down. The jump isn’t insignificant, but nothing that they can’t handle.

Yondu is angry at himself, for bringing Quill on a dangerous mission like this in the first place, for thinking that he should be able to handle what Kraglin can – what any of the team can. He turns, just in time to see the boy topple over the wall. He feels his feet lurch forward, arms stretched out into nothingness as if to attempt a catch.

Quill lands on his arm, and although the snap is a quiet sound, like the breaking of a branch, it causes everyone to fall instantly silent.

Amazingly, the boy doesn’t make a sound. Not a shout, not a cry, not even a whimper – and that terrifies Yondu more than anything. Kraglin is at the boy’s side first, eyes wide and panicked. Yondu pushes him aside, taking the boy’s face in his hands. “Quill? Quill, talk t’me, boy.”

Tears squeeze out of the corners of his eyes. “Th-they’re coming, Yondu, we have to go,” he whispers in a halting, strained voice.

“Dammit, boy, I know they’re comin’! Shit. Gimme yer good arm.” Peter reluctantly raises his left arm, and Yondu loops his hand around the boy’s back, cradling his other arm under Quill’s knees. There’s a gasp of pain and a brief, desperate clutch of Peter’s hand in his duster as Yondu gently takes the injured arm and folds it delicately over Peter’s stomach. “It’s okay, Quill. Gonna be okay. A’ight,” he says to the team, who have all been watching the scene unfold with fearful eyes, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

They reach their M-ships safely, and take off just as the Corps begin to fire.

“Kraglin, man the helm, I gotta take care a’ Quill,” he says, relinquishing the controls to the First Mate.

“Aye, Cap’n,” Kraglin says with a concerned glance over his shoulder.

Quill lies on the cot in the back of the M-ship, looking sickly and pale. His forehead has broken out in a sweat. “Y-Yondu,” he asks in a quiet, fearful voice, “Am I gonna die?”

Yondu looks down from where he’s rummaging in the cupboards around the cot. “What? No, a’ course not. Jus’ a broken arm, not like ya got ripped in half or somethin’. Where are those damn bandages?” He pauses, then groans as he remembers he used all of the bandages on the _Warbird_ up a couple missions ago when he had a run-in with a native animal. “Shit.” Shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it aside, he retrieves a pair of fabric shears from the cupboard, and finds a cardboard box from a previous shipment in the next room. He rips the box into two long pieces, then knees by Quill’s side.

“I gotta take a look at this now, boy,” he says, carefully cutting away the sleeve of Peter’s shirt. Thank goodness the planet was warmer and the boy wasn’t wearing his leathers – the medical shears wouldn’t cut through that as easily, and it would jerk his arm around. Yondu peels back the fabric, and sees the upper arm is pale, but otherwise looks normal. Peter’s lower arm is blotchy, red and inflamed, and starting to bruise all the way up to the elbow. Right near his wrist, it looks deformed. “Okay, tha’s good boy, it’s jus’ yer wrist. Yer gonna be fixed up in no time. Gonna get this splinted, and then I’ll get ya a cold pack, a’ight? We’ll git it set up proper back on the _Eclector._ ”

Peter nods, and Yondu reaches out to place a hand on his head. “Yer gonna be fine,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. Gingerly, he lines up the cardboard on either side of Quill’s forearm, then takes off his neckerchief. He takes one corner in his teeth, and rips it into long strips.

He’s just bent over Quill and is about to say something like, “this might hurt” when he catches the boy’s eyes. They’re big and round, but more full of curiosity than pain.

“What is it, boy?” Yondu asks, pausing.

“Where did you get those scars?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Yondu averts his eyes and bends over the boy’s arm. The bite of the Kree’s collars and restraining nooses surface in a keen and unwelcome memory. He’s slow at tying the knot, and only speaks after several moments. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, but if not now, when? And Quill will keep asking. “Do ya know what slavery is, Quill?”

“Yes,” he answers, voice soft and fearful.

“I was a slave once,” Yondu replies, finishing with the first strip of cloth around the cardboard splint. “These scars are from nooses they used to restrain me, and collars they made me wear - like an animal.”

“Is that where you got the scars on your face too?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Yondu replies, kneeling down to give his back some relief from bending over. “I had blue skin like them, and they didn’t like that. They wanted somethin’ easy to recognize, somethin’ obvious so I wouldn’t be mistaken fer a Kree.” He remembers the knives, the cold stone as they pressed his face to it. And the blood. There was so much of it. He closes his eyes briefly to try and erase the image.

“Do they hurt?” The words are spoken so quietly that Yondu almost doesn’t hear them.

He opens his eyes. “The scars?”

Peter nods.

“No, boy. Not anymore.” _But the memories’ll never stop hurtin’._

“Will I have a scar?”

“From a broken wrist?” Yondu smirks. “Not likely.” Peter frowns slightly, as if this was not the answer he wanted, and Yondu laughs. “Don’t worry, son. Ya don’t need scars to make the girls swoon.”

Peter’s face scrunches up. “Girls? Yuck.”

Yondu throws his head back and laughs. He ruffles Peter’s hair as he ties off the last strip of cloth. “Plenty a’ time fer that kinda stuff later in life. Lemme get ya a cold pack.” He gets to his feet and pulls out a cold wrap that he found earlier. He snaps it and shakes it out, and soon the blanket-like material is ice-cold in his hands. He wraps it loosely around Quill’s arm, sitting on the edge of the cot.

“Thanks, Yondu,” Peter says, raising blue-green eyes to his. “Sorry I slowed you down.”

“Hush boy, hush. Ya did fine. Close yer eyes now, and git some rest, huh?”

As if on cue, Peter yawns. He closes his eyes, and Yondu gets to his feet again.

“Yondu?”

The Captain looks down at him. “What is it, Quill?”

“I’m sorry you were a slave.”

“Don’t need to apologize fer somethin’ that ain’t yer fault, boy.”

Peter cranes his neck up to look at Yondu. “I know, but I’m still sorry you had to get hurt.” He’s quiet for a moment as Yondu stares at him. “If you weren’t a slave, do you think things would have been really different? Do you think you still would’a met me and Kraglin if that hadn’t happened?”

The question causes Yondu to grow still. “I – I dunno, boy.” He clears his throat and grunts. “A’ight, that’s enough talk. Git some rest, tha’s an order.” He stands there until Quill’s eyes are shut and his breathing has evened out.

Yondu resumes his seat next to Kraglin. If he hadn’t been a slave, he would never have left his home planet. He would never have met Stakar. He would never have become a Ravager, or a Captain.

He glances at the First Mate. He wouldn’t have been on Knowhere to rescue Kraglin. He wouldn’t have been able to save Peter.

He traces the circular scars around his throat with a few fingers, and settles back in his seat.


	3. Despair / Reunion / Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu gets separated from his team on his first mission under Stakar, and thinks he's been left behind.

It’s a routine mission, but it’s Yondu’s first. It’s a small moon that Krugarr recently found was home to a healing herb that is worth hundreds of units a leaf. The mission is to find these plants and report back to the ship before nightfall.

Yondu wants to prove that he can handle a simple look-and-find job, so he sets off to search by himself. He unintentionally wanders farther and farther away from the others as he walks along – then he gets distracted following a stream he believes might lead him to the plant. He travels further and further into the tall ferns that carpet the forest floor, and before he knows it, he’s alone in the woods – and the sun is on its way down in the sky.

“Stakar?” he calls, turning around in a slow circle, looking for any signs of the party. “Martinex?” He cups his hands around his mouth. “Charlie?”

There’s nothing but silence. He stands stock-still for a second, then, fear rising in his throat, he tears back the way he thought he’d come. But he didn’t study the planet as carefully as he should have – he doesn’t know in which direction the sun sets, didn’t pay attention to what side of the trees those purple flowers grow on. _Dammit!_ he scolds himself. _Ya know better than this! Less than a year with these Ravagers and ya gone soft! Idjit, ya up and forgot all yer survival training!_

“Stakar!” he yells as he runs. “Aleta! Marty! Anybody hear me?”

As the sun dips lower and lower into the sky, he begins to slow his pace. He stops at last, panting, and listens. There’s no movement except for the lonely rustle of wind amongst the ferns, and no sound except the winged creatures that cackle mockingly in the trees high above. There’s no voices calling for him, no sound of footsteps.

 _They left me,_ he realizes in shock. _I - I thought they was different._ His heart sinks in his chest, and he backs up against the nearest tree, sliding down its trunk into a sitting position. _I’ve been lookin’ fer ‘em fer hours, but they ain’t been lookin’ fer me._ He laughs ruefully to himself, shaking his head. _Why was I foolish enough to think they’d keep me around?_ His lips purse into a tight line. _I ain’t any good to nobody. I ain’t helpful like Martinex, or kind like Charlie, or brave like the Ogords. I ain’t talented or skilled or nothin’. The Kree was right, I’m jus’ a waste a’ space, ain’t worth shit. They probably couldn’t wait to get rid a’ me._

This last thought comes with something unexpected and unfamiliar – a tight feeling in his throat, and the sting of tears in his eyes. He scrubs them away angrily with a fist. _I deserved this, I probably did somethin’ wrong._

He draws up his knees and rests his arms over them. He looks up to the sky. The sun is setting; he can see the three moons hanging in the sky. He needs to find shelter, and he can figure out a way to get off the planet in the coming days. His shoulders sag as he wearily climbs to his feet. No more comfortable cot, no more regular meals.

But that’s not what hurts most, that’s not what he’s going to miss. Martinex’s jokes, Charlie’s booming laughs, Aleta’s nearly-hidden smile of approval, Stakar’s voice, his comforting hand on his shoulder. Yondu has to get used to being alone again.

Yondu sets his jaw and begins to head towards the remaining sunlight. _Git yer thoughts straight. If I can find that stream again, it might lead to a river or larger body of water. And wherever there’s water, there’s probably game, and possibly shelter._ Hopefully he can find it before the sun is completely below the horizon.

He’s about to start walking again when he stops. He thought he heard something. An animal, maybe? He listens, but he doesn’t hear anything. He goes to take another step, when –

“Yondu!”

It’s faint. Too faint. Yondu shakes his head. “Damn imagination,” he tells himself, gritting his teeth, and takes a few more steps.

“Yondu!”

He gasps, whirling on his heel. “Stakar?” he whispers, not daring to believe it.

“Yondu! Where are you? Yondu, answer me!”

It’s not his imagination. “Stakar?” he yells, turning towards the voice. “ _Stakar!”_

“Yondu?” There’s the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush, and suddenly Stakar is there, about a hundred meters away. They both stop, staring at one another. _“Yondu!”_ Stakar yells, and tears towards him. Before Yondu can react, the Ravager Captain has seized him in a one-armed hug, slapping his back. “Thank gods you’re all right.” He releases him quickly, knowing that Yondu still isn’t used to affectionate physical contact. He takes him by the shoulders and gives him one sound shake. “Don’t you run off like that again, boy! We were worried sick.”

Yondu’s eyes widen. He can’t believe his ears. “Ya – ya were?”

“Of course we were,” Stakar says earnestly. “When we couldn’t find ya, we all started lookin’ for ya everywhere. Oh, speakin’ of which.” He presses a button on his wrist com. “Aleta, come in.”

 _“Did you find him?”_ Her voice snaps. _“‘Cause if you didn’t and you’re wasting breath to-”_

“I found him. Say hi, boy.”

“Hi Aleta,” Yondu says, a little tentatively, leaning towards Stakar’s wrist.

 _“Yondu!”_ There’s a nearly-imperceptible sigh of relief in her rough voice. _“Are you hurt?”_

“No ma’am,” he answers.

 _“Thank all the gods,”_ she replies in a murmur they barely catch. “ _I’ll round up the team, Stakar. Just get our boy back on board.”_

“Copy that.” Stakar slings an arm around Yondu’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home, son.”

* * *

 

Later that evening, Yondu is sitting awake, seated against the wall, watching his crew mates as they sleep. Stakar rolls over towards him, and Yondu is surprised to see he too is awake. They catch each other’s eyes, and Stakar quietly gets up, seating himself next to Yondu.

“Ya okay, boy?” the Captain asks. “Why ain’t you sleepin’?”

“M’ fine. Jus’ thinkin’.” Yondu replies.

Stakar nods. After a few minutes of silence, he turns to him again. “Can I ask ya something?”

“Yer the Cap’n, ya can ask me anythin’ ya want.”

Stakar chuckles quietly, then asks, “Down on the planet - when I said we were worried about ya, ya seemed surprised. Why was that?”

Yondu offers a shrug of one shoulder and fiddles with a loose thread on his pant leg. “Guess no one’s ever been worried ‘bout me before.”

Stakar falls silent, and Yondu is worried he might have said the wrong thing. He looks up into the Captain’s eyes and sees something he wasn’t expecting – sadness. Without a word, Stakar’s arms wind around him, pulling him into an embrace.

For the first time he can remember, Yondu doesn’t want to escape it. _They didn’t leave me. They didn’t want me gone. They came to find me. They want me here. I ain’t worthless, not to them._ He curls his fingers into Stakar’s shirt, pressing his head into the older man’s shoulder. It feels right, somehow.

He feels Stakar hand cradle the back of his head, and his quiet voice a moment later near his ear. “Yondu,” he says, “You are part of this family, I want you to understand that. And as family, you will never be left behind. I promise.”


	4. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Groot draws a gift for a recovering Yondu, the Ravager Captain and Rocket have a heart-to-heart.

“I said to go get some sleep, dammit it all! If ya don’t, I’ll git out this bed myself and-”

Kraglin yelps and runs for the door. “No, no! Stay in bed. I’m goin’, I’m goin’!”

Yondu rolls his eyes as the First Mate vanishes, and lets his head fall against the pillows. The new implant feels heavy on his head today. He coughs a little, glancing down to make sure the oxygen mask is where he left it, then looking back up to check that there’s plenty in the tank still. He sighs when he sees it’s at a good level and closes his eyes. He falls asleep almost instantly, and is woken what seems like just minutes later by voices drifting down to him out of the haze.

“I am Groot?”

“No, ‘course he ain’t dead, he’s just sleepin’.” There’a a pause. “I think.”

Yondu’s just opening his eyes when he receives a sharp poke in the ribs. “Get off, rat!”

Rocket leaps backwards on the cot and jumps down onto the chair that Kraglin had recently vacated. He grunts, crossing his arms. “That’s gratitude for ya, I was makin’ sure you wasn’t dead, you idiot.”

“I ain’t dead,” Yondu growls. He rubs his stomach where Rocket poked him. “Whatchu got fer fingers, boy? Little knives? Damn.”

“I am Groot.”

“He should watch _his_ language? You’re one to talk, little buddy,” Rocket scoffs.

Yondu looks down at the foot of the bed, where tiny Groot is standing, holding a beat-up box of crayons that he remembers seeing ages ago – it used to be Peter’s – and a pad of paper twice as big as him; the top curls over his head and almost reaches his ankles on the other side. “Hey, Twig.”

Groot smiles, little eyes twinkling, and holds up the crayons, letting the paper fall between Yondu’s ankles. “I am Groot.”

Yondu raises an eyebrow and glances at Rocket.

“He says he’s gonna draw ya a picture,” he shrugs, settling back in the seat.

“And what’re _you_ doin’ here?”

“Babysittin’,” he says with a sharp-toothed smirk. “Although if it’s fer you or Groot I ain’t sure yet.”

Yondu rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a nursemaid,” he grumbles. He sits up little, narrowing his eyes. “Did _Kraglin_ send y’all in here?” he demands.

Rocket’s ears twitch, and he shifts a little in his seat before batting a paw at Yondu dismissively. “Pssh, whaaat? No, no of course not. Groot – uh – Groot just wanted to come and see ya, that’s all. Ya know, cheer ya up.”

Yondu doesn’t believe that’s the whole story, but he doesn’t feel like arguing at the moment. He detects movement at his feet and looks down to see Groot has dumped the crayons out on the blanket, and is lying on his stomach on the pad of paper, holding the red crayon in both hands. “Didn’t know you was an artist, Twig.”

Groot doesn’t look up as he exchanges the blue crayon for the brown one. “I am Groot.”

“He didn’t know either,” Rocket translates.

They’re silent for some time, the only sound in the room the soft beep of Yondu’s heart monitor and the soft scratching, waxy noise of Groot’s crayons on the paper. He switches from the green crayon to the blue, to the red again.

“So, uh,” Rocket says awkwardly, pretending to study one dirty claw. “How ya feelin’?”

“Like shit,” Yondu stops as he eyes Groot, “Sorry Twig,” he murmurs, but the child doesn’t even look up. “But I’ll take lyin’ in this bed over bein’ frozen or beat up by a god.”

“Yeah,” Rocket laughs.

“How ‘bout you?” Yondu asks, looking at him sidelong.

“Me?” Rocket scoffs, but he fidgets slightly. “What about me?”

“Don’t play stupid, boy,” Yondu says in a lower tone, and sees Groot pause briefly to look up at the two of them before resuming his drawing. “You and Quill. You settle up?”

Rocket scratches his snout, averting his eyes from Yondu’s. “No, but he knows,” he mutters, after several minutes. He quickly changes the subject. “You two are real a-holes, you know that? I thought you were gonna-” he stops as the drawing noise ceases and looks over at Groot, who is staring at the two of them.

“I am Groot?”

Rocket lets out a nervous laugh and scratches an ear. “Yeah,” he says after a few moments. “Yeah, I was scared.” The words come out soft and uncertain.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket lets out a quiet, and suspiciously-wet-sounding laugh. “I know, buddy. But everything turned okay, right?”

“I am Groot.” The small Flora Colossus glances over at Yondu, smiles, and keeps drawing.

“It’s okay to be afraid, boy,” Yondu says softly, and he meets Rocket’s eyes. “And sometimes it’s okay to let others know that yer afraid a’ things, especially when those things is _losin’ them.”_

Rocket opens his mouth to make some sort of sarcastic retort, but nothing comes out at first. A “I- I uh,” a nod and “Yeah,” is all he manages.

“I am Groot!”

Both their heads snap towards Groot, who is carefully tearing the page from the pad.

“Says he’s finished,” Rocket says.

Groot gleefully pushes aside the crayons and scrambles up Yondu’s chest, where he pushes the drawing into his hands.

Yondu unfurls the paper. On it, is a lineup of nine figures. A resemblance of Groot himself is in the middle, holding Rocket’s paw. On one side of him is drawn Quill, Gamora, Drax and Mantis, on the other, Yondu, Kraglin and even Nebula.

Yondu can’t stop a smile from forming on his lips. “Tha's real good, Twig.”

"I am Groot."

Yondu looks at Rocket expectantly for a translation, but he’s just looking at Groot - and his eyes are suspiciously moist-looking. "What'd he say, rat?"

Rocket clears his throat. "He - uh. He said that's a picture of his family."

Yondu lifts a hand to gently pat Groot’s shoulder, but the little Flora Colossus opts to hug his thumb instead.  Yondu chuckles and looks down at the picture again. His smile grows.


	5. Death / Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu has to find a way to escape and take care of an injured Kraglin while stranded after a mission.

The mission was supposed to be a simple snatch-and-grab, but Yondu should know by now that nothing is simple, and something always manages to go wrong. And sometimes they go from wrong to _worse._

He thought the planet was uninhabited of sentient life; all records of the place supported this rationale, and the frequent storms and earthquakes should have been enough to discourage any settlers. He was also under the assumption, via radar, that there would be no quakes or storms for at least the next 18 hours.

But here he is, trapped in a cave – and Kraglin is fading fast.

Just the two of them were plenty to retrieve the platinum-cored geodes found on the planet, but apparently those stones were sacred to the natives. Yondu tried to leave the site peacefully, but they ended up being chased away, rained upon by arrows and darts. The First Mate had been hit twice by said darts, and just as Yondu was about to retaliate, a violent storm rolled in and they were forced to take shelter inside a cave. Then the quake hit, possibly caused by the storm, crumbling the entrance and floor of the cave and trapping them inside.

The only beacon of light in this nightmare is that Quill and Tullk in orbit around the planet in Quill’s _Milano_ , waiting for their signal. When they don’t receive it, they’re going to come looking. But to find them, it might take hours, and Kraglin might not have that long.

_[Eclector time: First Watch, 1202]_

Yondu looks back down at the First Mate from where he is shifting rocks, trying to find a means of escape. The young man is lying down on the cave floor, Yondu’s duster bundled behind his head. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow. Cuts and bruises from the fall look even worse in the light of Yondu’s arrow, which flies to hover at his side. “Ya still with me, Krags?”

Kraglin raises his head slightly. “Still here, Cap,” he says, and Yondu notices his voice is dry and croaking.

“Can ya get to yer canteen?” Yondu asks, still perched atop the rocks. Standard mission equipment, no matter what, includes a small canteen of water, two days’ rations, and a small med kit for each mission team member.

Kraglin nods, and reaches to his side, hissing. There’s a gash on his side that they’d used most of the bandage on, and it’s already bleeding through. He manages to get hold of his canteen, and flips open the top to take a small drink.

Even from this distance, Yondu can see his hands are trembling. He turns back to the rocks and digs more urgently.

_[Eclector time: First Watch, 1248]_

Kraglin is pale and sweaty, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. Turns out that the darts he was hit with were dipped in some kind of venom. The small puncture wounds in Kraglin’s neck from the darts are puffy and oozing, surrounded by dark, spidery-looking veins.

“Ya wanna try some water again?” Yondu asks.

Kraglin swallows and shakes his head. The water was what had possibly provoked the vomiting in the first place. “Ya jus’ keep diggin’ Cap’n,” he croaks. “Don’tcha worry ‘bout me.”

Yondu bites back a snort as he turns back to the rocks. _Don’t worry, he says. Of course I’m gonna worry ‘bout ya, boy. Yer my damn First Mate._ But he’s more than that. He’s a friend and confidant, as loyal as they come. And he’s like a brother to Peter. _Hell, if I come back without Kraglin, Quill will eat ME._

He throws his weight against a large rock, and it tumbles off to the side, starting a cascade of smaller stones and debris so violent that he nearly loses his footing. He leaps off the pile and rolls onto the ground, shielding Kraglin from the clouds of dust and small rocks that bounce off his backside.

When the commotion subsides, he turns, coughing and waving a hand to clear some of the dust. Thankfully, the pile is a little smaller now, and he can just see the tiniest hint of light filtering through an unblocked crevice. He slaps Kraglin’s knee and grins at him; the First Mate gives him a shaky, weak smile.

_[Eclector time: Second Watch, 1335]_

There's a sudden scuffle of dirt and rock behind him, and Yondu whirls. Kraglin has hefted himself up on his elbows and is furiously dragging himself backwards, eyes bulging and focused on something behind Yondu.

Yondu leaps off the pile instantly, and whistles. The arrow buzzes over his shoulder, flicking this way and that – but in its light, Yondu sees nothing. "Krags, what's the matter?"

Sweat runs down the young man's face and neck. "Th-they're tryin' to get me," he pants, fingers clenched in the dirt.

"Who is, boy?"

"Zeede -" he nods to an empty space off to the right of the rock pile, "And Ch- Ch'reth. They're workin' together, they're takin' turns comin' after me, and pilin' the rocks up further."

Yondu comes to the First Mate’s side. "Ain't nothin' there, Krags," he says softly, and Kraglin tears his eyes away to look him in the face.

"Yes there is, Cap, they’re right-" he turns his head back, and his mouth hangs open. "They're gone. But - but-" he looks around wildly.

"Dammit, ya gotta lie still, boy. That venom is gonna work faster through yer system the more ya struggle around, ya hear me?"

Kraglin doesn't answer, his eyes locked on something over Yondu's shoulder. 

A chill spreads over Yondu at the look in the First Mate's eyes - he's seeing something worse than Zeede, who gave him the scars over his eye, worse even than Ch'reth, Kraglin's former master. Hurriedly, Yondu looks over his shoulder. He's relieved, but not surprised, to discover there's still no one there. He circles around to the kneel at the First Mate's back and lays a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "What do ya see, son?" he whispers.

"M-m-my fa-father," Kraglin whispers back. There’s sheer, panicked terror in his words. "Cap, don't - don't let him take me away again." He clutches at Yondu's arm, hard, backing up until his back is flush with Yondu's chest.

The fear is so real to the First Mate that while Yondu doesn't want to encourage these hallucinations, he can't just sit by and let them continue to reign over him. He loops an arm protectively around Kraglin's chest, leaning his head over the First Mate's shoulder. "Ain't no one gonna hurt ya while I'm here, boy," he hisses in his ear. "No one's gonna take ya away. Yer my flarkin' First Mate, yer father should be afraid of _you_. Ya hear me, jackass?" he yells into the darkness. "This boy could whup yer ass! If ya git through me first, that is! So ya better run!” He waits for a few moments, until he feels Kraglin slacken slightly in his grasp.

The First Mate is breathing hard, but he stammers, “He-he’s gone.”

“See? He was scared a’ ya. Now have a lil’ water, and ya take it easy. No more movin’ ‘round.”

_[Eclector time: Second Watch, 1417]_

Yondu has done all he can do. The rest of the rocks are just too large to move. At least they have some fresh air and some natural light – there’s a large crevice open above them now, showing off the newly-risen moon and clear night sky of the planet above. Kraglin had urged Yondu to try to escape that way and fetch help, but Yondu refused to leave him, telling him it was too high up anyway.

Instead, the Captain’s arrow is out there somewhere, flitting around high in the night sky in fast circles, occasionally guided by another whistle to correct its course, acting as a beacon for Quill and Tullk.

With extreme care, Yondu carried Kraglin over to the rock pile and has him laid out under the opening, so he can look up at the sky. Yondu sits there with the First Mate’s head cradled in his lap. The hallucinations have stopped, but his skin is hot to the touch, and though beads of sweat stand out like raindrops on his forehead, he’s shivering. Yondu dabs at the First Mate’s face with his neckerchief and wraps him in his duster.

“I forget how pretty the stars are,” Kraglin whispers. It’s the first thing he’s said in some time. “I don’t jus’ sit and look at ‘em much no more.”

Yondu looks up at the inky purple sky above them and nods. “Yeah, they is kinda pretty, ain’t they.”

They stare up at the sky in for several minutes, watching asit grows darker and the stars more pronounced, twinkling and shining like drops of molten gold and silver.

“I dreamed of flyin’ through the stars when I was a lil’ un,” Kraglin says softly. “I wanted to be a Nova Corps officer.”

Yondu bursts out laughing in spite of himself, and looking down at Kraglin, sees the First Mate crack a smile. "Yeah and look how that turned out."

"I wouldn't give up bein' a Ravager fer nothin," he whispers, and a tear escapes the corner of his eye and trickles down the side of his face. "Wouldn'a met you or Pete if I in the Corps."

Yondu's throat tightens at the remark. If Kraglin had dared say that in front of other Ravagers, he would have swatted him upside the head and growled at him for talking sentimental shit. But in this rare private moment, he's happy to let it pass. He can't imagine his life without Kraglin, or Peter for that matter. It sure hasn't been easy, practically raising two growing boys in the rough and brutal ranks of the Ravagers, but it's been a fun and rewarding experience too - not that he'd tell _them_ that. He knows he can always count on Kraglin to be there for him. He’s never let him down, for as long as he’s known him, and he’s only been more of a cornerstone since becoming First Mate four years ago. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be a live, much less Captain still if Kraglin weren’t around. "Don'tcha worry, son," Yondu says, brushing his fingers over his hair, "I'm gonna git ya back up to them stars and yer gonna be flyin' the  _Cawl_  through 'em in no time."

"I dunno, Cap'n," he replies in a weak voice, and the response catches Yondu off guard.

"Whatcha mean, ya dunno?"

"Don't feel good. Should’a told ya earlier, but I can’t move m’left arm, went numb a lil’ while ago. I’m jus’ not sure if can pull through this time." Yondu's heart constricts painfully as another tear streaks down Kraglin’s face.

"Don't talk like that, Krags," Yondu says, cursing the tremor in his own voice. "Yer gonna be fine, I promise. Quill and Tullk are gonna see that beacon any minute now.”

"Cap'n, if I don't -" he swallows. "If I don't make it-"

"Shut up, Kraglin, I order ya not to talk like that! Yer gonna make it, dammit."

"Jus' take care a' Quill, will ya, sir?"

Yondu looks away, throat tightening. He growls and grits his teeth together. "I ain't gonna let ya die, it's not gonna happen. So stop talkin’ like that, or yer demoted.”

“Yessir,” he says faintly, and his eyes close.

“Kraglin, keep them eyes open!” He doesn’t move for a moment, and Yondu almost has a heart attack.

Then they flutter, and open again. “Sorry Cap.”

“Yeah, yer gonna be sorry! ‘Cause – ‘cause if ya die, I’ll kill ya! Ya hear me?”

“Here I was worried about you guys, and you’re threatening kill each other.”

Kraglin’s eyes widen, and Yondu’s head snaps up at the scoffing voice.

Peter is crouched over the crevice above them. He waves, grinning cheekily. The smile fades a little. “Wow, Krags. You look like crap.”

“Quill!” Yondu barks. “’Bout damn time! Get us out of here!”

Peter makes a face like he’s about to make a snarky retort, but he takes another look at Kraglin and changes his mind. “Tullk, hurry with that rope!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“I’m comin, keep yeh pants on.”

Yondu smiles down at Kraglin. "See? Told ya yer gonna be up in those stars in no time."

Kraglin smiles. "Should’a doubted ya fer a second, sir. Ya saved my life again."

Yondu squeezes his hand gently.  _Jus' returnin' the favor, boy._


	6. Ravager / Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aleta begrudgingly takes new recruit and former slave Yondu to the shooting range, and learns some things.

"Keep up," Aleta says curtly.

Yondu never thought  _anyone_  would say that to _him_. But here she is, this feisty little dark-haired woman he's following through the  _Starhawk_. This is the first interaction he's had with Aleta alone, and he's a little on edge. He's been with the Ravagers for less than a month, sticking mostly to Stakar and Charlie, although he's slowly been growing more comfortable around the First Mate, Martinex, who he initially regarded as a threat. Aleta comes and goes - he's learned that she has her own crew and her own ship, the  _Virago_ , which is usually nearby. 

She made this trip at Stakar's request and hasn't seemed happy about it all morning. In fact, Yondu had the distinct feeling when he was first brought on board, the chains still clanking around his ankles, that Aleta was not fond of him. His suspicions were strengthened when he overheard Stakar and Martinex discussing that she had reservations about bringing a Kree battle slave into their ranks. He doesn't blame her.

"Do you know how to shoot?" she snaps as she turns into a wide, long room. There are a few Ravagers practicing here, shooting at targets lined up along the far end of the room. One wall is hung with blasters and weapons of all sorts; without waiting for him to answer, Aleta crosses to this area and lifts down a blaster the size of his forearm. She walks back over to him, and holds it out.

Yondu doesn't touch it. 

"Go on, take it," she says, taking a step towards him.

He backs up, swallowing.

She draws it back towards herself a little. "You know how blasters work?"

"Yes," he says quickly. "A' 'course."

"Then take it," she says impatiently, thrusting it towards him. "I don't have all day."

He stumbles backwards, eyes wide and locked on the gun. She withdraws it hurriedly, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him for a second. Then she turns her head and barks, "Out! Everyone!"

The blaster fire stops, and the Ravagers in the room all turn to her.

All she has to do is give them a single glare, and they all hurriedly take their weapons and flee the room. 

Yondu hesitantly turns to follow, taking a large step away from her.

"Not you," she says, brushing past him. "You stay."

Anxiety begins to well in his chest. He did something wrong. She closes and locks the door to the room. His heart rate increases. He's going to be punished. 

As she turns and walks directly for him, he reflexively drops into a lower stance, legs spread, hands balled into fists.

She stops, slowly clips the weapon to her side, and holds up her hands. "Relax," she says in the softest voice he's heard her use yet. "You're not in trouble, and I'm not going to hurt you." She drops her hands and walks towards him again, slower this time. "It's okay," she says, stopping about a foot away. She crosses her arms. "Now tell me what's going on with you and the blaster."

"Nothin'," he replies. Another reflex.

"Don’t lie to me, Yondu." the tone is gentle, but edged with threat.

When he stays silent, she sighs, and studies him, searching his face with her eyes. Her gaze drops to the blaster at her side, then goes back to him. "You didn't want to touch the blaster, but you know how one works. Were you forced to kill someone with a blaster before?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"Was someone you loved killed with blaster fire? Is that the reason?"

In his faintest memories, he sees someone - a grandmother? - gunned down by the Kree. "No," he answers.

Her jaw stiffens in thought. After a second, however, she straightens. "Yondu, were you punished for touching a blaster?"

Yondu can still feel the bite of the whips, the armored fists against his cheek, the burn of the electric prods. "Yes."

Aleta's body posture changes. She's no longer stiff, no longer commanding. Her shoulders relax, and she comes forward so she's just inches away. Yondu stands his ground, letting his fists loosen. She brushes her long hair out of her eyes so she can look at him fully. "Yondu," she says. "You are a Ravager now. You're not a slave anymore. You aren't beholden to the same rules or laws that the Kree made you live under. You will never be punished in any way for picking up a blaster - or any other type of weapon. Unless of course you mean to blow up the ship or harm your fellow crewmen, but you won't do that, will you?"

He shakes his head. "No ma'am."

"Good. Give me your hand."

She looks at him steadily, but it's not the glaring, piercing kind of look that the Kree would give him, trying to intimidate him into submission. It's a soft, even warm look, something he hasn't seen in Aleta before. Hesitantly, he slips his hand into her outstretched one. She holds it firmly but not roughly, and gently guides him over to a small, high-top table used for assembling and cleaning weapons. She stands next to him and places the weapon carefully on the table before them. "I want you to touch the blaster. You don't have to pick it up, just touch it."

He swallows, and slowly lifts a hand towards it, his eyes flicking from the blaster to Aleta and back again, constantly.

"It's okay," she says encouragingly.

He touches the blaster with a couple fingers, and immediately draws it back as if afraid he’ll be burnt, eyes locked on Aleta's face. But she hasn't moved a muscle, still looking at him with calm eyes. "Good," she says, nodding. "Now lay your hand on it and keep it there while I count to three."

He nods, and with slightly more confidence than before, places his hand on the blaster's handle, meeting Aleta's eyes as he does so.

She counts softly and steadily. "One. Two. Three."

He draws his hand back, slower this time.

"Good. Are you comfortable picking it up?"

He isn't, but he forces himself to nod. If this is what it's going to take to survive as a Ravager, then he's going to have to learn. He lets out a breath, and slides his hand around the grip, resting his finger on the trigger. He slowly, carefully, slides it off the table, watching Aleta's every move, ears strained for the sounds of reinforcements or alarm signals. She doesn't move, and there's no other noise besides the scrape of the weapon against the metal table. He frees it from the surface, and holds it at his side, pointed at the ground in a non-threatening manner.

"Good," Aleta says, and there's the vaguest hint of a smile on her lips. She gestures to the targets. "There are lines on the floor over here," she says, walking towards them, "I want you to position yourself at the distance you feel comfortable, and take a shot. Try to hit one of the targets. Can you do that?"

"I can," he says. He weighs the blaster in his hand, turning it this way and that, studying its surface. "There a safety on this thing?"

"Yes, it's on the back of the grip."

He flicks it off, and comes to stand by her. He raises the weapon to fire and stops. "Yer trustin' me a helluva lot," he says without looking at her.

"Trust goes both ways," she replies simply. "Whenever you're ready."

He levels his gun, and fires. He clips the corner of one of the targets and drops his arm. He shoots her a concerned look.

"Not bad for your first shot," Aleta says with another ghost of a smile, and he relaxes. "My first went totally wide, I didn't even hit the damn thing." She moves closer to him. "I'm going to adjust your stance. Raise your weapon like you're going to fire it." He does so, and she bends his elbow a bit, tucking his arm a little closer to his body. "Shift your hips a little to the right, spread your feet a little more. Don't ever lock your elbow, the kickback from some guns could tear the ligaments. That's better, try again. If it helps, breathe out when you fire."

He takes a deep breath, then as he lets it out, squeezes the trigger. It's much closer to the middle this time.

"Good. Very good." 

Yondu lets a small smirk lift the corner of his mouth, then lowers his blaster again and turns to Aleta. "This actually ain't the first time I've held or fired a blaster," he admits. "Killed a guard and took one off him the first time. They beat me so hard I couldn't see for three days. The next time, I stole one on the battlefield and tried to escape. They whipped me. The last time...." he pauses, and drops his eyes to the floor. "The last time, they said they'd had enough a' me actin' out and they took my  _tahlei."_

"Your what?"

He gestures to his bald head, where the scarred tissue begins in the middle of his skull. She knows it stretches from there all the way to the small of his back. It's the ugliest and most brutal of all his many scars. "My fin. My crest."

"How old were you?" 

"Dunno. Twelve? Mebbe younger."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Twelve? How old are you now?"

He shrugs. "Twenty-somethin'. Not sure exactly."

"Yondu, how long were you with the Kree?"

"Not sure. I know I was a Battle Slave for 20 years. That's what they always bragged 'bout, anyway, when biddin' me off."

Yondu's not sure what he said, but Aleta is suddenly very quiet, and holds out her hand for the weapon. He places it in her palm with some reservation. "That's enough for today," she says. Yondu swallows and he turns away, halting again as Aleta places a hand on his shoulder. "You did good, Yondu. Would you be up for more training?"

He nods. "Yeah, I want to learn," he replies.

“Good.”

* * *

"Damn," Stakar says at last. “Battle slaves usually don’t last more than five years, tops.” He stares up at the stiff form of his wife, silhouetted against the stars.

Her arms are crossed, the reflection of her face in the main viewing port hard and grim. "Yeah." 

"So," he begins delicately, "Where do we go from here?"

She turns her head slightly in his direction. "What do you mean?"

"I'm the Captain, but you're the Admiral." He's only half-joking. "Do we keep him on?"

She turns fully on him, her dark eyes flashing with sparks of dazzling white light. "He was a battle slave for twenty years, Stakar. Twenty. Flarkin'. Years. If you think I'm going to turn that poor boy out, then I'm gonna hafta kill you."

"Good, then we're on the same page. Because I'm not giving him up either."

The white fire in her eyes is gone instantly, and she puts her hands on her hips. "Good."

He rises to his feet as she turns to the window again and places his hands on her shoulders, massaging the base of her neck with his thumbs. He gives her a light peck on the cheek. "I love you, girl."

"Shut up," she replies, punching him in the arm, but there's a smile in her voice.


	7. Goodbye / Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu is about to set off again after surviving the battle with Ego. But first, Quill has some things to say.

_One more day and I’ll be off on my own again,_ Yondu thinks as he wanders the halls of the _Quadrant._ It’s been six months since the battle with Ego, and he’s more or less recovered from his time in the vacuum, besides the occasional throaty cough. His new ship the _Eclector II_ , courtesy of Stakar, is parked next to the _Quadrant_ on a neutral docking station; it’s outfitted with the newest systems, and on it is his new crew, months worth of supplies. He’s excited to start over, and more than ready to leave the Guardians behind. As big as the _Quadrant_ is, he’s ready for some time away from them and to have a space of his own again.

It’s late into Third Watch, and he walks the corridors, thinking of times gone by. Every burn, scrape and scuff on the floor and walls has a story. He walks without aim, until his feet guide him in the direction of the docking bay. He hears music, which is curious at this time of night – he thought everyone was in bed by now.

He enters the docking bay, a few floors up from the ground level. He keeps to the shadows, and peers over the railing.

Peter is there, fixing up what was scavenged of the _Milano_. His face is smudged with engine oil and grease, his hair sweaty and sticking up at odd angles as if he’s run his grimy fingers through it several times. “Hey, Krags – pass me that wrench, will ya?”

Kraglin appears, his jumpsuit stripped to the waist and tied around his hips, his dirty grey tank smeared with oil. He tosses something silver to Peter. “Catch.”

“Thanks.”

Yondu leans on the rail, silent. How many years has it been, since he’s seen the two of them team up to work on something together? _Far too long,_ he thinks. He watches them talk with each other and laugh, like they used to do when they were young. He doesn’t see a hint of the bitterness or anger that they once held. There were years that went by without them speaking to each other – at least speaking civilly. They couldn’t even pass each other in the hallways without shoving the other into a wall.

In retrospect, Yondu almost dying might have been the best thing that happened to the two of them. Somehow it brought them closer.

When he had woken up from the coma, one of the first things he saw was the two of them asleep at his bedside, Kraglin’s head tilted backwards, mouth agape, and Peter passed out against his shoulder, both snoring away. The memory melts into a more distant one, of an injured Kraglin sleeping in a cot in the med bay, with a young Peter curled protectively under his arm.

He smiles softly at the recollection, then down at the men below, and withdraws.

* * *

Yondu and Kraglin have gathered all the rest of their belongings from the _Quadrant_. The Ravagers are all on board the _Eclector II_ and the Guardians have retired to their new vessel. The only people on the docking station are Yondu, Kraglin, and Peter. All that’s left is to say goodbye.

Kraglin says his goodbyes first, yanking Peter into a one-armed embrace. “See ya around, Pete,” he says. “Ya take care of yerself, now, ya hear?”

Peter wraps the First Mate in his arms and squeezes him tight, grinning into his skinny shoulder. “I will. You do the same, okay bro?”

They release one another and just stare for a second, before embracing once more, quickly.

 _"Kraglin, sir?"_  a voice crackles through the First Mate's wrist com, and Peter releases him.  _"You're needed in the control room for final checks."_

"Yeah, I’m on my way," Kraglin answers. He throws a Ravager salute to Peter, who reciprocates the action, tapping a fist twice over his heart. "Stay outta trouble!" he calls with a laugh as he boards the  _Eclector II._

"I'll be up shortly, Krags," Yondu calls after him. He turns to Peter, and the two of them stand there, staring at one another. Silence stretches like a valley between them. Yondu wants to say something, but for the hell of him can't figure out what. After the quiet has started to trend into the awkward, he just nods at Peter and is about to turn away, when the man moves towards him and wraps his arms around him. The embrace is so tight it's nearly smothering.

Peter doesn’t hug like this. And if he did, Yondu would probably snarl, punch him in the gut to make him let go, but he doesn't retaliate. Not now. He can't, because there's something in the man’s embrace, something _desperate_ , something  _afraid_. So Yondu reaches around and holds his boy, patting his curly hair comfortingly. "It's all right, son,” he says with a chuckle. “Ain’t like we’re sayin’ goodbye forever."

"Just promise me-" Peter gasps out, and from the strained tone, Yondu can tell he's right on the brink of tears, "Just promise me that you'll be careful, okay? That you won't do anything stupid or take dumb risks? Because I can't-" Peter shudders in his arms, and Yondu holds him tighter, doing what he can to help the man hold off the sob he knows is threatening his lungs. "I can't lose you again, I just - I can't do it."

"I know, boy, I know. Y’aint gonna lose me." With a final squeeze and a rough pat on the back of the head, Yondu releases Peter. He takes the man’s face in his hands and is struck by how young he looks right now, with those tears in his eyes. "Don't you worry 'bout me. Ya jus' take care of yerself and them idjit friends a' yers. Especially the Twig and the rat. Rocket - he...he needs ya too, he can't lose ya either, even though he might say different." He hopes the words convey what he wants them to.

Thankfully, Quill’s gotten a little smarter over the years, and Yondu sees his eyes light up slightly in acknowledgement. “I’ll be careful,” he promises, “And I’ll do what I can to be what they need.”

“Jus’ be yerself, boy,” Yondu replies, releasing him. “Tha’s enough.”

Peter nods, and the silence falls around them again.

“Well, I better git goin’,” Yondu says at last.

“Yeah. I- I’ll see you soon, right?” Peter asks hopefully.

“Not too soon, boy. Need some breathin’ room.”

“Well, yeah- duh. I mean-”

“Shut up, boy.” Yondu pulls him in for one last embrace. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Yondu chuckles. “Bye, son.”


	8. Day 6 (Alternate): Green / Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of Day 6 / Chapter 6, featuring Mantis and Yondad.

It's a celebration, of life, of forgiveness, of coming home.

Yondu wasn't too keen on it at first, being back aboard the  _Starhawk_  and partying it up. He still feels like shit, and Stakar's oh-you-almost-died-so-now-you're-forgiven thing didn't sit too well with him at first.

But after he'd had a talk with Kraglin, and with Stakar himself, he puts his pride aside and rejoins his family in celebration. After all, it's really all he's wanted for the last twenty-six years. Now he sits, beer in hand, sandwiched between Kraglin on one side and Rocket on the other. The rat has a deceptively high metabolism or something, because he puts it away like nobody's business.

"Slow down, boy," Yondu rasps. "It ain't a contest."

Rocket snorts. "Leamme alone, Blue. I almost flarkin' died."

"We all almost flarkin' died, rat."

He shrugs in response and pours himself another shot, which he almost chokes on because he starts laughing, pointing at Quill. The boy's dancing, the songs on the Zune pumped to a throbbing volume over the ship's speakers. He's trying to teach Charlie some steps, and has just fallen over as Charlie swung a hip into him. Now they’re both roaring with laughter.

Drax and Gamora, with Groot leaning sleepily into her shoulder, are leaned against the wall nearby, watching the spectacle. Off to Drax's side, awkardly standing by herself, is that new little girl - what was her name again? Mantis. 

"Hey, what's the deal with the bug girl?" Yondu asks, nudging Rocket.

"Huh? Oh, Mantis? She ain't all there, ya know?" he twirls a claw around his ear.

"Ya wouldn't be either, if ya had to be around Ego for all them years," Kraglin retorts nonchalantly, tipping back his beer. 

"Go git her fer me, rat."

"Hey, I ain't yer errand boy!"

Yondu gives him a shove. "Go on."

Rocket glares at him and takes another shot but gets up and unsteadily makes his way over to Mantis. He takes her hand in a paw and drags her back to the couch where they sit.

"M' gonna go talk to the robot," Rocket announces as pushes Mantis to the couch.

"Her name is Mainframe," Yondu snaps at his retreating frame. Rocket gives him the finger.

Mantis sits, unsure of herself, hands clasped in her lap. 

"Hi, darlin'," Yondu says softly. "Ain't really had much occasion to talk to ya, yet. Figure I'd better at least have a few words with ya if yer gonna be stickin' around Quill."

"Oh," she says, and gives him a hesitant smile before seeming to shrink even further into herself.

"Relax, girl. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

"I know," she says, dropping her gaze to her hands. "I am just a horrible person, I do not think you would want to have kind words for me."

"How do ya figure?"

She cocks her head at him.

"Why do ya think yer a horrible person?"

"All of those years I let Ego do such awful things," she says, her large dark eyes glistening with sudden tears, "To his own children. To my brothers and sisters."

Yondu nearly spits out his drink, and he sees Kraglin straighten up by his side. "Yer Ego's daughter?"

"I am still uncertain, but Peter has told me that it is very likely that I am his sister." She still doesn't raise her eyes to theirs, and her antennae droop. "I do not deserve to share blood with someone so good."

"Hey," Yondu says, a lot less harshly than he thinks it, "Peter ain't perfect, believe me. But yer right, he is good. But so are you, darlin'. Without yer help, we wouldn't be sittin' here today." He touches her arm reassuringly, and her head snaps up to meet his gaze, eyes widening. Her antennae glow. A slight prickling sensation spreads over his skin, and he draws his hand back quickly.

"You mean what you say," she says in wonder. "Some people say nice things but do not mean them."

"Yeah, well. Don't git used to it," Yondu says gruffly. "I ain't a nice person."

"Well I like you very much," Mantis replies and gives him a large smile full of white teeth. "You are a good father to Peter."

"Yeah, well." Yondu fiddles with the bottle in his hands. "Well, if yer Peter's sister, then I guess yer family. Ain't that right, boy?" he asks, looking at Kraglin.

"Yessir," he replies with a smile.

Minutes pass in silence then, with Mantis smiling at him, and Kraglin smiling at nothing as he quietly sips his drink. "Okay, enough," Yondu says, struggling to his feet. "Ya know how to dance, sweetheart?"

Mantis' eyes grow even wider, and she shakes her head vigorously. "I do not. But Peter is a very good dancer. Are you a good dancer too?"

"Who do ya think taught him?" he asks, and holds out a hand to her. "C'mon, I'll teach ya."

With a wary look back at Kraglin, then one at Drax, she slips her hand lightly into Yondu's and follows him to an empty space of floor. "Okay, first things first," Yondu says. "Ya feel the beat of the music?"

Mantis stands very still, then her head begins bobbing in time to the music, very slightly. "I think so?" she says, dark eyes searching his.

Yondu snaps his fingers in time, and her head bobs more confidently. "Tha's it, darlin'. Good. Now instead of yer head, try swingin' yer hips a lil'." He shifts his weight back and forth in time to the music, and she copies his movements. "There ya go. Now move yer feet, same way." He steps one foot out, then back in, then repeats the action with the other foot.

She does the same, a little reluctantly at first, but more confidently as she continues.

"Tha's the foundation of it," he says with a smile. He shimmies his hips and takes a few steps, and feels eyes on him. He turns his head to see Aleta, who is fixing him with one of her rare smiles. Her smile grows, and she lifts her glass at him. He shoots her an embarrassed smile back, his cheeks growing warm, and quickly looks away again. "Uh, yer doin' great, darlin'," he says to Mantis, clearing his throat. "Ya can git more fancy from there, move yer arms, hips and feet, add in a few twirls, things like that. Try it out."

She bites her lip, and moves forward, then back, and does a little spin - a little out of beat, but not bad. 

"There ya go, sweetheart. Ya got it."

Mantis turns from him with a wide, excited smile. "Peter!" she shouts. "Look, I am dancing!"

Peter turns, and his smile lights up his eyes. "You are! That's awesome, Mantis!" he jogs over to them, and joins in. They're soon joined by Kraglin, and Charlie, then Martinex. Drax comes over as well, but he just stands there while Groot dances in his hands, so the little Flora Colossus is not trampled underfoot. Soon every member of his former Ravager team and Peter's friends are on the floor. Rocket dances atop Mainframe's shoulder. Even Stakar and Aleta are dancing by his side. 

Yondu looks around in wonder at the smiling faces. A week ago, he'd given himself up to death. Now he finds himself surrounded by the warmth and affection of his family. His family. He smiles softly, then looks up as a prickling goes through his skin again - straight into Mantis' eyes. She looks surprised for a second, then her eyes grow warm and she smiles widely. She doesn't say a word.


End file.
